#im GOING to blow my brains out ON your porch actually

[gravesidepickup]

YOURE INSANE .

[zomb21z]

my favourite pete wentz petekey livejournal entries

Q: peter, would you ever date someone 13 years younger then you? or at least be friends with them? p.s you are hot and i love you

A: i don’t want to go to jail. im little and i think i would get passed around like a pack of cigarettes. but thank you that is really sweet. i don’t really want to do pushups in a drag…

that one isn't really related to petekey and it's not a lj entry but it's funny and makes me feel less devastated and depresed about the whole petekey thing

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Amazing new mexico sunset. I’m hanging on a bridge with my friend mikey way from my chem. Its all orange and pink above us. We went to another waterpark again. I love high fives again. Totally back in love. Saw the most amazing movie… I think its called spirited away. Watch it.

Peterpan

obviously this is one of my top favs everytime i see the word "mexico", "sunset" or the mention of mikey way i immediately think of this one lj entry

July 19, 2005

wrote you a goodbye note (you just wrote me off) on your arm when you passed out. bestfriends, exfriends- better off as lovers not the other way around. racing through the city in the back of yellow checkered cars. the takeoffs are the worst but the skin from your shoulder to your ear makes it all worth it. and im sorry the way my moods flicker on and off like old light on your porch, but i know you wouldn’t have it any other way. sneaking in your window instead of out. the way you hold a cigarette cause you don’t know what to do with your hands when we are sitting this close. the way the waists of pants feel better at the ankles. the way you always were my best excuse for calling in sick on everyone else. i miss you.

petey

SO HEARTBREAKING also i lovelovelove bang the doldrums even though it makes me super sad

July 26, 2005

lately i’ve been into believing fictional stories like the ones about me and you being happy. they’ve gotta be science fiction cause how else can you have a monster fall in love with a boy with no heart? actually i’m pretty sure you have a heart, but i’m just as certain it’ll never be mine. i can tell you’re willing to be loved somewhere on the inside but that doesn’t do me any good when i’m still seeing things through thick curtains over windows and padlocked doors on the outside. bitter regrets, predictable forfeits. we lit a fire that was nothing but smoke and hot air. ashes. my hands are empty and you hold all the cards, kind of funny how you don’t even want them/me. the final nail in my coffin stabbed me in the heart - from my back. you once made my heart skip a beat, now you make it want to skip this. you’ve got salty mails ripping my wounds open that you’re telling me to let heal. love is a mirage, you only think it’s there for so long..til you either wise up or die of hydration. love is the way to blow your brains out minus the gun, i swear. it’s the stupidest form of suicide cause you don’t die. and whatever doesn’t kill you only laughs at you for coming close enough to. sorry, it’s just the bitterness talking. ignore it/me. i’m just loose words hanging on the ends of your lips, even looser when i’m anywhere near your hips. poetry written from blistered fingertips and sleep deprived eyes that was better before the ink dried. he said, "i should have stayed with her,” and i should have stayed away. held together by paperclips and lies, a part of me is still trying to pretend i was (mis)hearing things but even the voices in my head aren’t that mean to me. and them “i’m sorry,” too late, i’m a better (re)actor than the one you’re being to convince me. i’m just convinced that telemarketers are the only people with more hangups than me. you called this before you knew the number, and hung up before you got a responce. tell me any of this will get me somewhere worth being without being left behind. i tried, i gave it/you my all, but all i can do is give up. i don’t tell you my insecurities so you can use them against me, but help me get over them. instead you said and did the worst thing you could do. worse than cheating to me, i hope you know. but whatever i don’t even know, i guess sometimes it takes losing what you had to see what you didn’t.

the parts in italics r my fav this one truly is the most heartbreaking one out of all of pete's petekey entries it's so poetic emotional I CANT DESCRIBE ITTT

next one isn't an entry i js really like it

December 2nd, 2005

[…]

i love how i thought this was all over and i have to face the same two months replayed for the rest of my life.

my head and heart are beating the shit out of me trying to see what hurts worse.

kinda like us.

yep.

summer wasn’t hot enough but i had hope winter was gonna be the coolest.

i obviously thought wrong.

you and me are the last hot day in summer. we’re just fading before the fall.

if you listen really closely to whatever's around you you can hear me crying. again, italics r my fav

November 23rd, 2005

[…]

i wrote you a letter a few hours ago that i never intended to give you in the first place and then ripped it up and threw it away cause it’s much too personal to say on paper. even over a phone. the words i said in it i need to say to you in person. i guess it felt better to write it all out. it’s easy to say “i only need 5 seconds with you than a lifetime with someone else” than it is to live it. to be honest, i’m dying from it. “kiss me electric” vs “kiss me at all.” and when you do it’s just a kiss off.

this isn't the full entry its js that this half had more emotional impact on me

friends that lay together

forgive me for not showing more remorse

apologies were never really my thing- outside of feeling sorry for myself. the last nail in your coffin got stuck in the mail. youre gonna have to wait. until then focus on love below the waist. they say your head can be a prison- consider this a conjugal visit.

Monday, June 05, 2006

Stick around long enough and everyone becomes parody of themselves (see also: if it could happen to the egyptians if could happen to you).

[…]

you dont hate me, you hate the part of you that is like me. i cant sit here and ride my flaws until the end because the truth is i live the charmed life because of you and them. we are a gang. maybe its time to disband. im not sure i am thinking clearly but i just want you to know that i waited on you guys calls all night- they never came. i just wanted to say i miss you or im sorry or you know something that would have meant something to you. i would have made it poetic and memorable or at least something you could laugh at while drifting off to sleep. always trying to relive the glory days.

i dont care how poorly these sentences were constructed or how in the light of day i will wish i had not written them- right now i can only curse the fucking light off of this stupid western city because it wont ever get dark enough for sleep but otherwise how could you guide your way back here?

my head always feels warm right before i pass out, i always worry that there is something wrong and i wont wake up or you know i will. promise me that you wont take anything i ever say too seriously.

***

Friday, July 07, 2006

im so sorry, but not really. ('straighten up and die right’)

i said i want to be rebuilt like a frank lloyd wright only without all of the water damage. or painted over like a monet only less blurry. she said “no, youre something different”. like what? “something better”. it gave me the rush of warm blood like you see in cartoon dogs right before their eyes pop out and all of the bells go off. my head is spinning like a car off of an icy guardrail. show me what you are made of. your eyes were always rolling but youd tilt your head so they were somehow always still stuck on me (have your cake and eat it too). i feel safe but not like a bet more like the way mothers feel when the lock the car doors in bad neighborhoods. i am blue waves across the red rootlike veins in the bodies drawn flat in medical books. i wonder at the way that someone can write thousands and thousands of pages about my insides. when i met you i gave you a name- not your own- but in my head so i wouldnt ever mix you up with anyone so ordinary- i cant tell you- but to me it meant salvation. you only wanted reaction. but i cant be bothered. not anymore. ill see you in the spring. first pew on the left. wear your white veil and dont forget the words. warped tour. sun drenched days. bestfriends. new roads. so long salvation. dont worry your pretty little heads. i am sleeping safe tonight.

okay tbh this is js a bunch of petekey stuff thatre my favs but i put the title heading thing as livejournal entries cause it's more aesthetic 😞

these next ones r js tweets

ALSOOO HE GREEN TEA KITKATS OETE THING IS SO CUTE ITS MY 2ND FAV NEXT TO THE NEW MEXICO SUNSET ONE and that's all i think

[earthtothemourge]

okay so BASICALLY the petekey lore is that pete was in love with mikey way but mikey way had mixed feelings/didn’t like him back. Pete would write about it on his blogs, talking about his feelings about an unarmed person (mikey)

pete and mikey met around 2003, both being bassists, they had a lot in common. not much is said of this for a bit.

Sometime in 2005, mikey way was seen watching fall out boy play, and he was wearing the great white jacket that pete wentz also wore. He also had a gang with mikey called “sweet little dudes” which only consisted of them two..

again, in 05. FOB was playing at the same festival MCR was. Pete later wrote on his livejournal:

“hot and bothered”

1. having a crush on a person I speak to near daily

2. White denim jackets

(white denim jackets?? interesting..)

warped tour 05. reported hand holding. mikey way sleeping on the FOB bus. all i have to say about it

and this photo

AND THE PETE WENTZ “I WISH YOU WERE MY BASS NOT MY FRIEND” POST.

im not quite sure what mikey was to think of this situation, but the most famous blog post was tuesday, june 28, 2005. pete wrote: “Amazing new mexico sunset. I’m hanging on a bridge with my friend mikey way from my chem. Its all orange and pink above us. We went to another waterpark again. Totally back in love.” (LiveJournal)

this is one of many odd posts he would create in the future. Thus leaving the average emo to wonder, “what the fuck is he talking about?”

let me explain.

July 19, 2005:

“wrote you a goodbye note (you just wrote me off) on your arm when you passed out. bestfriends, exfriends- better off as lovers not the other way around. racing through the city in the back of yellow checkered cars. the takeoffs are the worst but the skin from your shoulder to your ear makes it all worth it. and im sorry the way my moods flicker on and off like old light on your porch, but i know you wouldn’t have it any other way. sneaking in your window instead of out. the way you hold a cigarette cause you don’t know what to do with your hands when we are sitting this close. the way the waists of pants feel better at the ankles. the way you always were my best excuse for calling in sick on everyone else. i miss you.

petey”

based off of past evidence, you can guess who i think this is about. This later became the iconic song “Bang the doldrums” (my fav)

Because i don’t feel like explaining EVERY single love letter pete wrote (because it’s a lot) im going to put some prime examples down:

“i guess my point is, you make me want to fall in love and get stuck - haha.”

“lately i’ve been into believing fictional stories like the ones about me and you being happy. they’ve gotta be science fiction cause how else can you have a monster fall in love with a boy with no heart? actually i’m pretty sure you have a heart, but i’m just as certain it’ll never be mine. i can tell you’re willing to be loved somewhere on the inside but that doesn’t do me any good when i’m still seeing things through thick curtains over windows and padlocked doors on the outside. bitter regrets, predictable forfeits. we lit a fire that was nothing but smoke and hot air. ashes. my hands are empty and you hold all the cards, kind of funny how you don’t even want them/me. the final nail in my coffin stabbed me in the heart - from my back. you once made my heart skip a beat, now you make it want to skip this. you’ve got salty mails ripping my wounds open that you’re telling me to let heal. love is a mirage, you only think it’s there for so long..til you either wise up or die of hydration. love is the way to blow your brains out minus the gun, i swear. it’s the stupidest form of suicide cause you don’t die. and whatever doesn’t kill you only laughs at you for coming close enough to. sorry, it’s just the bitterness talking. ignore it/me. i’m just loose words hanging on the ends of your lips, even looser when i’m anywhere near your hips. poetry written from blistered fingertips and sleep deprived eyes that was better before the ink dried. he said, "i should have stayed with her,” and i should have stayed away. held together by paperclips and lies, a part of me is still trying to pretend i was (mis)hearing things but even the voices in my head aren’t that mean to me. and them “i’m sorry,” too late, i’m a better (re)actor than the one you’re being to convince me. i’m just convinced that telemarketers are the only people with more hangups than me. you called this before you knew the number, and hung up before you got a responce. tell me any of this will get me somewhere worth being without being left behind. i tried, i gave it/you my all, but all i can do is give up. i don’t tell you my insecurities so you can use them against me, but help me get over them. instead you said and did the worst thing you could do. worse than cheating to me, i hope you know. but whatever i don’t even know, i guess sometimes it takes losing what you had to see what you didn’t.

sooo yeah, this is where i actually admit i’m tired, and i go to bed. sweet. goodnight.”

“i wrote you a letter a few hours ago that i never intended to give you in the first place and then ripped it up and threw it away cause it’s much too personal to say on paper. even over a phone. the words i said in it i need to say to you in person. i guess it felt better to write it all out. it’s easy to say “i only need 5 seconds with you than a lifetime with someone else” than it is to live it. to be honest, i’m dying from it. “kiss me electric” vs “kiss me at all.” and when you do it’s just a kiss off. i’m really not ready for what you want from me, but with how you’re never around it makes me wonder what you really do want from me. honestly, it sure doesn’t feel like much. i said i’d be fine if you gave me a little note or a call once and a while, once a day even, just something to keep hanging onto, but you can’t even do that so yeah… i don’t know. am i being ridiculous? it’s just hard for me to keep going like this… my heart is lots easier to fool than me. i think that’s what makes this so hard.”

BASICALLY he gets his heart broken.

“IM SORRY. EVERY SINGLE SONG IS ABOUT YOU”

there’s so much more to say to this. twitter tweets, stealing eachothers clothes. but i have an actual essay to do in 30 mins so…

SUMMARY: Pete wentz is head over heels for mikey way but gets his heart broken so he makes songs about it..

ok thanks bye

can i rant about petekey some one say yes

[brelione]

Protect You (JJ Maybank X Reader)

Warnings:Domestic Violence,blood

Request:Hi! can you write a jj maybank fic with prompt #10, y/n is friends with the pogues and just recently broke up with her kook boyfriend. She starts getting closer with Jj and then her ex wants to get back together, she doesn’t so he chokes her and punches her. She tries to hide it from the pogues but jj thinks the bruises on her neck are hickies and gets defensive. Y/n continues to lie but then JJ makes her cry and she tells the truth ?? (Love ur blog v much❤️💕💖)

So this isnt exactly what you wanted but I tried so I hope you still like it <3

Loose long sleeve shirts,baggy sweatpants and high top sneaks.You were limping ever so slightly,thinking that none of them had noticed.You had been alarmingly quiet and smoking weed pretty much every 20 minutes.Nobody asked you why you were acting this way.Kie had just thought you were on your period,sharing the information with the boys,You had been staying at John.B’s and refusing to go back to your house in case he showed up there.

It was somewhere around 7 in the morning when JJ woke up,going to the porch to smoke.You were already there.Your hood was up,hair in a messy know on top of your head.You had a few dark bruises on your neck,the fake metal chain you owned dangling off your neck.You were leaning on the railing,blunt between your lips and your eyes closed as you tried to calm your thoughts with the drug.The small scar on your cheekbone had become irritated as it always did when you had cried.Being in this state meant that you hadnt noticed JJ’s tall figure yet.You let out a sigh,a small cloud of white smoke leaving your mouth.JJ came up behind you quite. 

“Morning.”His voice whispered groggily.You pulled up your hood so the fabric covered your neck,the material stopping behind your bun. “Morning.”You answered quietly,wincing as his arms wrapped around your waist and his chin rested on your shoulder. “Are you okay,sunshine?”She asked.You took the blunt back between your lips,nodding slowly. “You’ve been smoking a lot lately.”He observed,sliding his hands under your hoodie and onto your hips.You grabbed his wrists tightly,pulling them off your body.He frowned.

 “What’s wrong?”He repeated his previous question,sounding more serious this time. “I dont like when people touch me.”You answered as smore crawled out of your mouth and into the air.He slid between you and the railing. “You love hugs and cuddles.You always have.Im gonna ask one more time.What’s wrong?”He asked again.Worry and anger course through his veins.He hadnt really seen sunshine in three days.He had seen (Y/N) but not his sunshine that he had known and loved since seventh grade.

You sighed,avoiding his eyes as you exhaled smoke,the cloud hitting his clothed chest.You went to take another hit but he took it from your hand,making your eyes widen. “What the hell,JJ?”You asked,tears beginning to form in your bloodshot eyes.He sighed,looking down at you.You were silent as you thought about what you could possibly say,what excuse you could make.You held the bottom of your hoodie,thinking about what you were about to do. “Don't tell anyone.If you tell anyone ill kill you.”You told him.He nodded nervously. “Im serious,not even John.B”You spoke softly,worried that someone would hear you even though you were ten feet away from the house.He nodded again.

You hesitated,pulling off the hoodie with a small hiss.His heart dropped,feeling sick.Yellow and black bruises cover your torso,scratches and scabs and cuts all over your ribs and stomach.You pulled at the drawstrings of your pants,letting them fall into the grass.Your knee cap looked out of place,a large cut across your thigh.He couldn't say anything,tears coming from his eyes as his jaw fell. “Dont cry,im fine.”You forced a grin on your face.His fists clecnched. “Who the fuck did this?”He demanded,hand going to the gun in the waistband of his jeans.You sighed,shaking your head. 

“This is why I didn't want to tell you.”You mumbled. “Dammit!What the fuck does that mean?You cant just let me fucking protect you!Ill go to fucking prison!Doesn't matter if you tell me or not ill blow that son of a bitches brain out!”He shouted as you took steps backwards.Tears were going down his face.Someone had hurt his sunshine,ruined you.No one could make bruises like that with just their fists which meant whoever done this had a weapon.

 “JJ,just listen to me.Im fine.I had an accident and it was my fault.I feel fine.Everything is fine.”You spoke softly,trying to calm him. “Bullshit!”He shouted.Pope and Kiara came down the back steps quietly,trying to figure out what was going on.Kiara screamed when she saw you,causing you to turn around and see what she was screaming for.Now JJ could see the long cut across your back,the moon shaped cuts on your neck and the little bruises all over your shoulders. 

“Kie-im fine.Im fine-just go back inside.”You squeaked out,becoming overwhelmed with everything going on.JJ held his gun tighter. “JJ look at me.Im breathing and standing.Im fine.”You spoke,voice becoming shaky as you spoke to the blonde. “Shit,(Y/N).I think you need stitches for that.”Pope stared at the deep cut.You quickly shook your head,trying to gain control over the situation again. “No-no,Pope thats stupid!Im fine.Go back inside.”You spoke desperately,tears rolling down your face and neck.

JJ looked at the bruises one more time before slamming his hand against the railing.You sand to the ground,head in your hands as John B started shouting for all of you to go to the hospital.You hadnt even noticed him come outside.Kiara was crying,Pope was about to vomit,John.B was panicking and JJ had kneeled down in front of you,trying to talk.You couldn't hear anything he was saying,any sounds except for your heart beating and your sobs.He needed you to go to the hospital,desperately trying to get through to you.He gently lifted your chin up so you’d look at him properly. “Sunshine,you need to get in the van so we can take you to the hospital.”He spoke gently,his fingers tracing lines along your temple and jawline gently. 

“Im fine.”You insisted,trying not to cough. “You’re not fine-your knee is fucking twisted,your back is slashed and youre covered in bruises!You’re not fine!”John B shouted,completely losing his cool.You huffed at the commotion,ignoring the hot tears and the pounding in your head. “You’re so fucking dramatic.”You tried pulled the hoodie from under JJ’s knee. “You cant just put your hoodie back on and pretend everything is fine.”He refused to move.You looked up at him,offering a small smile. “Everything is fine.”You repeated again.His jaw clenched.

 “What the actual fuck?Come on,you know you're not fine!You know you’re not!Just let someone help you for once in your damn life-its either you get in the van and you let us take you to the hospital or I will hunt down whoever did this and shoot them in the fucking face.What’s it gonna be?”He asked.You just shook your head,more tears coming from your eyes.Someone else always got gurt,why>Kiara slowly came up to you,kneeling down and letting you cry into her shirt.You just kept apologizing,crying.POpe ran inside,coming out with a first aid kit and a rag,yelling for John.B to get rubbing alcohol and ice. “Hey,hey you gotta let us help you.”The dark skinned boy spoke quietly,sitting by you.

You let out a loud sob,JJ bit down hard on his lip and tried not to cry too.Everything was a blur as a rag got put in your mouth while Kiara held you tight.Pope was trying to clean the slash on your back with rubbing alcohol,your screams and sobs muffled by the rag. “Guys!Give her a minute!”JJ shouted.Pope took the blood stained,alcohol drenched towel and tossed it onto the porch.Kiara slowly let go of you,allowing you to lean forward.It was unspoken as JJ opened his arms and you wrapped your arms around him as you cried until you couldn't anymore,your eyes puffy.He didn't touch you at all,not wanting to hurt you and remembering you saying that you didn't want to be touched. “Was it...was it Lucas?”He asked.You gave him a weak nod,breaths still shallow from crying so hard.His hands became fists but he tried not to get angry again for your sake.

He made quick eye contact with John.B.They would go to his house and beat the devil out of him later.He rested his head against your shoulder,kissing your collarbone lightly. “Did he hit your head?”He asked.You just held onto him tighter.What a fucking mess this was.You sighed,moving away from him. “How long has this been going on?”John.B asked,sitting down. “A couple months.”You answered,finally coming clean. “Jesus,sunny,why didn't you tell any of us?”He asked.You shrugged,wincing at the pain.

 “Thought you guys would be mad at me.”You mumbled,causing the group to go silent. “You should come inside and shower.”Kiara suggested.She held her hand out to you,you got up with a low groan as your knee made a cracking sound.You pulled your clothes out from underneath JJ,limping back inside with Kie.She turned on the shower for you while you stared at your body in the mirror. “It doesn't hurt...he didn't hit me that hard.”You ran your fingers along the bruises. “He could've killed you.”Kie reminded you. “Its fine,Kie.I bruise easy anyways.You should see Lucas,I kneed him right in the dick.”You gave her a small smile before hesitantly stepping under the hot,flowing water.

You let out a sharp squeak as the blood hit the water,coloring the floor a faded murky red. “Im going to grab you some clothes.Will you let me bandage you up later?”Kie asked.You nodded,watching the blood go down the drain and try not to get your ahir wet.You heard the door open around two minutes later,too tired to open your eyes.Everything just felt heavy. “Why didn't you tell us?”A masculine voice asked.You could identify the voice as JJ’s.You opened your eyes partly,looking over to see him leaning against the sink with clothes under one arm and a towel under the other.

 “You never asked.”Was all you could think of,hand shaking as you turned off the water.You held onto the wall for support,shocked at how weak you were.You felt JJ wrap the towel around your shoulders,holding his arm out for support.You held on tight to his for arm as his other hand went to your waist,ready to catch you if you fell.You were trembling slightly,gripping his arm so hard that it was beginning to lose color. “I've got you baby girl.Take your time.”He spoke softly.You nearly fell as you stepped onto the small rag on the tile floor.The towel still hung on your shoulders,covering your breasts.

He slowly dragged the towel down your body,careful as the material grazed your injured thigh,dragging it back up to pat your neck dry.He kissed your forehead lightly,letting your naked body lean against him.In any other situation it would be all of his dreams and fantasies come true but he couldn't think about anything sexual in this moment.He was helping you,comforting you. “Baby.”He mumbled quietly.Neither of you really knew why he called you that,it just came more naturally than your name.He called you by Baby,Babygirl,Sunshine.Pretty much anything but your name.You could realate.You had nicknames for the others,words you would use instead of their names.

Pumpkin,Sweetheart,Darling,Love.But only JJ got to be called Love.It was something special for only him.You hummed quietly,listening to him. “I’ll hurt him,if you want.”He offered,waiting for your answer.You shook your head,moving his chin so he was forced to look at you. “Don't be so angry,Love.Karma will get him eventually.”You answered softly,pulling him down so you could kiss his nose. “I just wish I could protect you from everything.”He sighed,his bottom lip quivering.You pulled him closer,pressing a gentle kiss on his lips. 

“I know.But you cant and thats okay.”You replied before pulling the clothes from the bathroom counter,trying to figure out how you could slip on the shorts without making your thigh cut bleed again.He noticed your struggle,taking the shorts from you and assisting in pulling them up your legs,helping you with the T Shirt as well. “I love you.”He whispered.You nodded,squeezing his hand. “I love you too.”You answered.

@nas-marie-loves-u @28cnn @sexytholland  @yuxsh06   @ifilwtmfc  @cherryobx @poguestarkey @n1ghtsh4d3-67  @poguestyleskye @judayyyw  @sunwardsss @meaganjm  @outerbongs  @copper-boom  @httpstarkey  @maybebanks​ 

If you’d like to be tagged in all future JJ imagines/headcannons/series comment with a heart,if you’d like to be tagged in all future Pope imagines/headcannons/series comment with a smiling face,if you’d like to be tagged in all future Rafe imagines/headcannons/series comment with a frowning face,if you’d like to be tagged in all future Kiara imagines/headcannons/series comment with a question mark and if you’d like to be tagged in all future Sarah Cameron imagines/headcannons/series comment with a plus sign.If you’d like to be tagged in all Kelce content coment with a “>” and if youd like to be tagged in all Topper content comment with a “%”.Or if thats too complicated you can just comment whose name you’d like to be tagged in.

[yikesharringrove]

the fic you wrote for my last prompt was amazing, ty 😭 can you do 50 + 56 this time please? and if you want to work in dyslexic!steve too that would be awesome! 🥰

You are speaking my fuckin’ language, dyslexic Steve is my ABSOLUTE jam. Honestly, whenever I write Steve, he’s dyslexic, although sometimes it’s not mentioned because it’s not important to Harry’s journey @ jk rowling

Thank you for your request! I’m really glad you liked the other one I wrote! You’re anonymous so I don’t know which one that is but I really enjoyed writing them all! Sorry for my manic energy rn.

Something a little different, it’s modern au! This is probably nothing like what you were thinking so I’m sorry, but I kinda love it ngl.

50: Secret Admirer

56: “I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended.”

Prompt list!

Billy spent three and a half hours reading through every single tweet on the account.

There were so fucking many of them. The earliest one was timestamped from four days ago, so obviously, this person had no life outside of tweeting.

Tweeting about Billy.

He had a few personal favorites. He had retweeted them to his account, figuring may as well play it up, make a joke outta everything.

@ImHardForHargrove: sorry WHOMST gave you the RIGHT to have eyes that fuckin blue im YELLING

@ImHardForHargrove: watchin u play basketball is a religious experience y are ur arms so BIG hhnnnng

And Billy’s absolute favorite, which he pinned right at the top of his account

@ImHardForHargrove: ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass

Billy knew he looked good. Knew he turned heads wherever he went. He did that on purpose. But realizing someone at Hawkins High had set up a thirst account for him, well.

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended.” Billy had explained the situation to Robin, letting her go through the account on his phone. “Like, It’s kinda nice, whoever this guy is, he’s got a crush. But also like, It’s kinda creepy. Plus he’s objectifying me,” Billy was talking through his sandwich.

Robin made a face of disgust. “Why do you keep saying ‘he’? All of the girls in this fucking school are practically drooling for you.”

“Hard for Hargrove, Robin. I know you’re like, revolted by the peen and whatever but that does not excuse a lack of basic sexual education and anatomy.” She gagged at him. Honest to God, gagged. He thought she was gonna spew all over the table.

��If I ever hear you call it a peen ever again, it’s on sight Hargrove.” Heather plopped herself down next to Robin, kissing her cheek before zeroing in on Billy’s phone, still in Robin’s hand.

“Have you guys worked out who it could be yet?” Her eyes were wide at Billy.

“Billy says he thinks its a guy even though people with penises aren’t necessarily men.” Robin gave him a pointed look.

“Yeah Robin, I know that, but, I don’t know I just think it’s a guy penis-having person.”

Heather narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you actually think that, or are you just hoping in that goblin little brain of yours that this account is Steve Harrington’s.” Billy could feel the heat spread down his neck.

“Billy, I know Steve is like, the only out guy in this whole fucking town, but you can do way better than him.  PLUS, I feel like it makes more sense if the person running this account wasn’t out and had to channel their gay yearning through social media.”

“First of all Robin, you have this vendetta against Steve that I don’t get. He’s a nice guy. He’s kinda dopey, kinda dumb, but he’s like, sweet and shit. Second, I’m not out, so it still could be him because he doesn’t think I would, like, accept his advances or whatever. Hence, gay internet yearning.” The chime of the bell sent them packing their lunches, Billy’s phone vibrated in Robin’s hand. She rolled her eyes when he realized he turned on notifications for the account

“Get a fucking life you loser.” She slapped the phone into his hand. He opened the new tweet with embarrassing zeal.

@ImHardForHargrove: i saw u talking with ur mouth full and it was yucky but i was still  🥺🥺

His head shot up, trying to see who would have been facing him during lunch, but the cafeteria was almost empty.

The rest of the week Billy took deliberate care of every interaction he had with anyone. Observing who was in his surroundings, and making note of everything he did and said. He took extra caution around Steve, wanting to spot any minute detail that could give away who ran the account.

The account started blowing up. People were retweeting like fucking crazy. Everywhere he went, he was being asked if he’s seen it, like he doesn’t regularly retweet the good ones. The search for the owner of the account had spread throughout the whole school. A few girls even tried to claim the account was theirs, but every time that happened the account would tweet out something to discredit whoever made the claim, proving them a liar.

Billy was starting to lose hope it was Harrington. The tweets were coming at all different times, posted whenever the person thought about it, so Billy was losing track of who was near when he said or did something. And the tweets were always about stupid stuff Billy didn’t register doing. On Wednesday night the account said

@ImHardForHargrove: hi when you chew on your pencil and it makes me 🥴 that is all thx for comin to my ted talk

Friday afternoon gave them all:

@ImHardForHargrove: walked past ur classroom and u were asleep ive never wanted to CUDDLE someone so bad in my LIFE

But Saturday, Saturday renewed all hope for Harrington Billy could possibly have. Lauren Kranz was throwing a party. It was the first real rager in a while, so everyone was there, and everyone was sloshed. Everyone but Billy, who’d agreed to be designated driver for Robin and Heather like some kinda idiot.

He was brooding on the back porch when his phone went off. The account was active, and the owner was drunk.

@ImHardForHargrove: I can seeeeee u oyt the windw I wan u 2 FUC ME. RAW DOG.

@ImHardForHargrove: srry ur so beauitiful nd THICCC

@ImHardForHargrove: I wana shoot my shot but idk if u lik bois

@ImHardForHargrove: (ys i am boi)

@ImHardForHargrove: nd i dont wana get my heart broken agin 😥

He was right about it being a guy. He was right about him being too nervous to approach him outright. His brain was screaming stevestevesteve at him. Hawkins was shook when Steve came out as bisexual in his sophomore year. He was the golden boy, a real jock. He was NOT the kind of guy people would assume queer in a small midwestern town.

He was kind of a douchebag, dumping one girl for another, sleeping with her and never calling again. But then he settled down with this guy from the University of Indianapolis for a few months until Steve caught him cheating. Apparently, he had slashed the guy’s tires. Billy was impressed.

The next year came Wheeler, who only stuck around long enough to make sure Steve was nice and whipped before she fucked off on him too. So Steve retreated. Spent more time with middle schoolers than anybody else. Didn’t want to put his heart on the line anymore until he knew it wouldn’t be stomped on.  Billy could respect that.

Billy couldn’t risk being out in a town like Hawkins. Word always had a way of getting right back to his dad, and in a tiny hick town with nothing better to do than gossip, it was usually only a matter of hours before Neil heard something he didn’t like.

@ImHardForHargrove: srry 4 bad typing rn. drunk nd dysl exic ren’t a happy combo

Billy’s heart stopped. The drunken idiot was giving himself away. Maybe if he sat here staring at the account long enough, enough would be revealed he could figure it all out like a shitty drunk episode of Blue’s Clues.

He was so focused on Twitter, refreshing his feed, again and again, he didn’t notice a very drunk, and very unsteady Steve Harrington stumbling out the back door towards him. Until he crashed into his back.

“Sorry, Bill!” Billy had Steve by the shoulders trying to keep him upright. “Heyy I have a question for you.” Steve grabbed one of Billy’s hands and veered over to the table and chairs arranged neatly on the small patio. When they were sitting, Steve kept ahold of Billy’s hand.

“Hi.” Steve was smiling like a little kid. Billy was in fucking love.

“hey, Harrington. What was your question.”

“So-oo. I have this friend. A very good friend. Super close. And he has a big ol’ crush on you but he’s too scared to ask you himself because he keeps getting his heart fuckin’ broken so he wanted me to ask. Are you into guys?” It’s a miracle Billy understood any of that, every word blending into the next.

“That depends.” Billy leaned in, running his tongue along his bottom lip. He saw Steve take in a sharp breath, following the movement with his glazed eyes. He knew Steve was talking about himself, he just wanted to rile him up a little. Make him blush first. “This friend you’re talkin’ about. He’s our age? Like you’re not trying to set me up with one a’ your kids, right?” Steve physically recoiled.

“NO, you fuckin’ pedo. I’m NOT trying to set you up with a fuckin’, fuckin’ middle schooler. My friend is, uh eighteen. He’s a senior.” Unless Tommy fuckin’ H. suddenly had a penchant for dick Billy didn’t know about, Steve was 100% talking about himself.

“Well, if he’s as pretty as you are, I’d love to go out with him sometime.” Billy winked. Steve went red.

“Okay, but like, does that mean you’d go out with me? Like I’m as pretty as me, right? Because I was talking about me. Not ‘a friend’ I was talking about me. Steve.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that out. You know, I was hoping it was you running that Twitter. Any time you’d tweet out something you wanted to do with me, I was always picturin’ doing it with you, Baby.” Billy was practically purring. “Especially all the shit you wanted me to do TO you.” Steve gave something between a whine and a groan and flopped himself onto Billy’s lap, straddling him with very little grace.

“Thank God. ‘Cause you’re so fucking hot I’d let you do anything to me. Anything, Bill.” Billy smiled softly at him.

“Then let me take you home. Let me put you in bed to sleep off all this. And let me take you to breakfast tomorrow. Something nice and greasy for your hangover tummy.” Steve was a puddle in Billy’s lap. “C’mon, Drunky, git your ass up.” Steve just giggled and muttered Drunky Skunky under his breath.

Billy sighed and stood up, hefting Steve up with him.

“Bil-ly,” Steve whined. “You’re so strong, this is so fucking hot. I gotta tweet about this.”

“Tweet it later, Sweet Thing.”

It took Billy for-fucking-ever to find Robin and Heather (they were making out in the basement with the stoners). But Steve chirped and cooed into his ear, so happy Billy could lift him and hold him like it was nothing.

The last tweet from the account was timestamped from Sunday evening.

@ImHardForHargrove: Hi this is Steve. Billy’s my boyfriend now 🥰#ThirstWorks

[mellohyi]

wooowowowoo i miss summer camp so much

like this is my second year without going and as much as it sucked i loved it

there is a large rant about the place and like every single living detail i remember about it under the cut (is that the right phrase to use for this idk)

like the big field with the train tracks next to it and the beehives on one edge. i miss throwing a frisbee for my few friends there and laughing when i would get it stuck in a tree or they would throw it and it would go so far away. and i miss jumping on the trampoline and getting so pissed off (jokingly) at the dudes spending like 10 decades on it and because i was the only british person there they would be somewhat scared of me? so i would literally stare at them somewhat angrily and with my shitty latvian accent complain about how long they are taking and they would get off LMAO it only worked on the dudes younger than me but it worked... and the basketball on the small court !!! :D im not good at like,, throwing ball type games tbh? but like this court was magical because like 9/10 i would actually get it in and score a point and i loved how,, rapid (?) the games were like if you failed to get it in at a certain point you would be out and you had to get it in to stay in the game !!

and i remember the lake!!! it had a lot of those thingies.. oysters? idk i googled it and thats what they looked like. i can still remember the feeling of them and they were sharp LMAO and there was a zipline thing you could go on and it would take you to the middle of the lake and you could jump into it from there. and there was a game we played where we would be in two teams and then we would send a person down the zipline and if they fell in we would all have to do i think 10? pushups and it was fun cheering on people from the small platforms next to the zipline !! and we used to build a sorta dodgy looking sauna using some planks of wood and a big blue tarp that was held down by some rocks and we would collect sticks to make a fire with and then we would go sit in it and just talk and chill in the sauna. not everyone wanted to go, understandably considering iirc i put it off the first year i went but then tried it the next and loved it, so there was enough room for all of us to comfortable sit and even lie down on the log benches !! and we even had like,, bay leaf sticks with the leaves on it and stuff and we would dunk them into a bucket of water and then gently hit someone who was lying down as a like,,, relaxation thing? and it was so nice and it smelt SO GOOD it smelt like wood and grass and nature and it was sweet in a savoury way and i miss the smell so much just thinking about it. like you could literally smell the bay leaves because of the water evaporating after you take it out the bucket. and the hot air was so much harder to breathe when you stood up and it felt thicker and the air lower to the ground was cool so when you found it hard to breathe you would basically stick your head onto the grass to get a bit of cool and it felt so good !! and we would take breaks to drink water and pour cold water on ourselves or we would go into the lake though the last time i went a lot of the lake had dried up D: but its okay because i still have good memories with the lake when it wasnt like that. once during the sauna we went in the lake after and the sky was so clear like i could see all the stars and i could see the big dipper and it was just so beautiful. i even used the zipline to get into the lake that time as well and it was just so magical. i was kinda like,, sleepy (?) so i kinda was just not fully there so it was like so much cooler because i didnt feel real during it and it was just amazing.

omg and the activities we would do. we went on a hike in a forest and it was SO COOL like we would have to go climb up the steep hill that separated the field area and the train tracks and we would literally go onto the train tracks and at the time there wasnt any trains so we got to literally touch the tracks and we would go into the forest and IT WAS SO COOL like the light came in at a perfect angle and it was so pretty and we would pick blueberries and aaaaaaaa it was so amazing !! and we would split up and walk to an area to play some games using the trees and it was amazing. and also we would just do sports games using the field but also we went BIKING!!!! they had so many bikes for the people who didnt bring their own and we would go on the bikes and cycle to some sand dunes literally like 5 minutes away from the place and climb up them and jump and stuff and we carved tic tac toe grids into the stable parts and played and it was so fun AND I LITERALLY SAW A LIZARD CLIMB UP ONE OF THE EDGES INTO THE GRASS LMAO and we also cycled to a lake

this one to be exact!! and we would jump off from the small pier thing and swim around back to the edge and it had sand and a slide and it was generally really fun cycling to and from there. i did cause multiple crashes with the bikes while cycling there LMAO mainly because my brain just tends to blow things out of proportion for no reason and like LMAO someone would start coming a bit closer to me and i would panic and stop and then everyone behind me would then have to immediately stop and they would crash into me.. like once i got my cousin to come with me and someone looked like they were gonna go behind my cousin who was in front of me and i panicked because i didnt want to be separated from her so i just stopped because i was panicking too much and everyone behind me crashed into me LMAO and they were all like 'bruuuuh' but anyways it was really fun cycling there because i went past the place my aunt on my mums side got married + the place my uncle on my dads side got married (no they did not marry each other it was separate weddings) !! a few times i didnt go cycling because i just didnt feel good and didnt want to go but it was okay in the end because i was all alone in the cabin and i would just sleep and draw while waiting for them to come back and they would flood in cycling down the small hill that leads to the field and has the bike area and i would just see them from the porch of the cabin and it was cool :D

mMmMmmmmmMMM and the food area !! we would usually sit inside the pizzeria (because the place was also a pizzeria more on that later) and it was fun because we had breakfast, lunch, dinner + a night snack thing (its called naksniņas) and like even though im usually the pickest eater at the camp and they had to make exceptions for me because we werent allowed dessert at lunch unless we ate all our food like i still got to eat a lot lol like there was usually something i could eat even if i couldnt eat all of it and the juice was so nice and ngl i kinda liked being on the like,,, duty of having to set up before the meals + clean up after because getting all the stuff and setting it up was just so peaceful and calm and i loved it and mmmmsmsmsmsmsm it was so cool and THE NIGHT SNACK THING WAS LITERALLY THE BEST it was practically dessert for dinner but right before bed + we would do an activity after dinner before it !! i talked to my dad and figured out the spelling of the word because im not that good at latvian atm and mmmm . also like we would have tea and it was so good !! we would also have a small snack like a biscuit or cereal bar and it was so nice good way to end the day :D

i also lost an entire waterbottle there dont ask how

the cabins were nice because i usually end up on the second floor level thing of it and theres a small window on it !! and a cool ladder to get up to it though its a pain when camp first starts + when it finishes because you have to pack everything up while trying to not hit your head on any of the beams or the slant of the cabin roof and you have to haul everything up and down... other than that its so fun because theres small holes (like,,, really small. cant fit a pen down it) and when the people in the two rooms below that cabin spot are being pisstaking you can pour water down it and they shut up LMAO its really funny because they see the water dripping and get more pissed off and then become less annoying and we used to slip them notes to tell them to shut up LMAO also listened into their convos to be annoying too

anyways to finish off with my favouritest things ever about it. last day we would make pizzas and your family would be there and you could make multiple pizzas ! i usually made one for my parents / family and then one for myself and my sister because we r really picky and dont like cheese . and it was so fun and the pizzas were SO GOOD and i share the other pizza thats not mine with my family because i hate cheese and they are happy too. i also love the one evening where we cook dinner ourselves i think thats the sauna night as well but omg its so nice we have dough balls to wrap around a stick and asduidfohih its so nice omg i love them so much right because we take the stick and then toast them over a fire and when you do them right its a tiny bit doughy on the inside but a safe amount and its like,, slightly crispy in a good way on the outside so amazing and like you can put stuff in it like cheese and ketchup and stuff but i just eat mine plain and they are so good mmmamMMm and we also have watermelon iirc and it was so good overall like best evening of the camp :)

anyways i love camp and i miss it

[sirfleurs]

i was sixteen years old when my hand was blue.

The grayscale pitch

Preface      

Life is not easy when you are high and alone watching television or pulling an all-nighter listening to Jimi Hendrix. The brain becomes dull. Overstimulated by genius. You stop thinking and overthink at the same time. I guess that’s what some people call daydreaming. All your bad thoughts get loose and all your inhibitions disappear. I figure this is right before the moment you are most likely to kill yourself. I’ll give it an hour before my Manic-Depression shows its ugly face. As I haven’t killed myself yet in an age of 23 I think I’ve done pretty well. I was sitting in my room in some Woodstock apartment writing on my first ever soon to be book. I had decided to call it ‘The Pitch’. It would be about some witty guy who had a great idea and he would be trying to sell his ‘pitch’ to everyone who’d listen. I had thought the rest of the story through. To be honest I didn’t know more than that. As I was about to sit down I had a beer, smoked a cig and 5 minutes beforehand I had masturbated to a busty forest nymph. Believe me was I tired.

A week ago I was checked-in at Fitzroy Hostel in New York City. It had been insane. My supposedly friends and I were drinking cheap wine in our room during this pandemic across the country. Geez after two bottles of wine I somehow managed to pay for- and eat two caps of MDMA and it blew my mind. I sat on the floor to cool my ass but everything began to spin and it hit me hard like a jolt. Andrew said “hey dude, maybe you should go to the bathroom and stick two fingers in your throat you don’t look too good”. But he was just too late. I burst like a water balloon, vomiting on the floor of Duncans room. Duncan was this nice guy that played XBOX and drank occasionally. Geez was I sorry. I locked myself in the bathroom to get the caps out. I was trying to vomit and I began to feel heated. The MDMA had already kicked in and it was too late to reverse it. I would have to wait this one out. Everything started to feel nice all around the body. My eyes became big as small plates and my teeth began to clench. I got an strange urge to stick my hand in the toilet to cool my body. Something I am not very proud of. On the small shelf I found a shampoo that I emptied in the toilet too just for the hell of it. Minutes later people would lock the door up with a coin and find me covered in shampoo. The helped me in the shower and I went to bed shortly after. Hours later I woke up. Two guys invited me for a joint. Something I couldn’t decline. It was only the second time I had ever tried drugs. While we smoked this cat, Alex told me “you know this only happened because you drank too much. You can never be too careful with mixing alcohol and MD. It doesn’t help that you hadn’t eaten anything either.” “Geez, I was not in control at all. I’d better stick to weed and drinking. That’s something I know”. Always do drugs with very good pals of yours.

So I went to the street and couldn’t make any money. I was to make something one way or the other. Which isn’t always easy when you don’t know what profession you want to be in. All I knew was that I didn’t need any tiresome busy work in my life. I like to feel needed but not so much that I can’t laugh and have breaks during the day. Life is life you know. But I would dance down the street like drums banging through the air. Long time ago I would have taken every job offered to me now I’m not so sure. I went to a fruit parlor in the New Habor Market in near Manhatten in princess St. I asked the first guy :” how much are these avocados.” “two fifty for three piece”. Fruit in the markets are much cheaper than everywhere else and the life is strong on the street which I thought couldn’t be bad. Everyone just running back and forth doing their bussinnes as usual. The markets was one of the places that hadn’t closed due to the pandemic. Nice, I thought to myself. I handed the guy three dollars and told him to keep the rest. “ hey man, how you get a job here standing here selling fruit, I’d really like to know”. “ah young man, I could take a look at your resume if you’d like”. Problem was I didn’t have much to offer him, so I stalled him trying to promote myself in person. I can be a very persuasive guy sometimes. When I’m in the right mood and I felt it crippling in my fingers my mood was good for this situation. “Hey man, I don’t exactly have a written resume. But I’ll tell you everything you’ll need to know. Im good at shouting and a quick learner give me a shot and ill prove to you, you didn’t waste your time”. I sounded like a sucker. But I couldn’t eat my words. The guy didn’t seem interested. I said “I promise give me a shot and I will not blow it.” He looked me in the eye and we stood for a few seconds staring at each other. “come down tomorrow at 6 sharp I’ll see what you can do. You won’t be paid for your three first shifts and from thereon you’ll be paid commission on how much you sell”. Sounded good to me so I nodded “you betcha” I said with a coy smile I sounded like a dork geez. Anyhow that’s how I got my first job. It went fairly well. I continued down the street. I still had something else to do before my first shift. Let me stand next to your fire I thought to myself. I was excited as hell. Down the road I saw a green balloon it was helium filled balloons. A clown was giving them out to kids. Everything was nice the weather was good and you could hear the wind sweep from central park. I needed to buy some weed for the next time coming. So I got up my phone and rang my friend Alex who had a connection. “O boyy I got a job fix me up with some of that green”. I met him outside the hostel and bought a quarter ounce for 50 dollars which is a fine price for nugs like these. Then I went home and lit a blunt. Just a small one while I sat at my outside porch. We had a giant tree and a lot of ungroomed weeds in our garden. We also had a cat I personally named Pysser in the name of my favourite old person who recently died. He was a sergent Knud Romer was his name. He once wrote an article about me when I was fifteen going to summer camp for young boys with no other places to go for their vacation. God was I sad to see him go. When I was done with the blunt I went up to my room and opened my book. It was called Pimp and the author went by the moniker Iceberg Slim. What kind of badass shit was that. It was kind of interesting the way he proclaimed the pimp life. And he was a real gangster. His bottom whore at the end of her mileage. Meaning the whore who kept every other whore in his house in line. When she goes everything always goes to hell for a pimp. He conend her. He made a whole setup with actors to con her into thinking she killed a rich motherfucker. She would be in the hotel room and this guy would collapse on her. Slim would come up to the room and call a doctor and get the guy collected. Slim conned her into thinking he bribed the police. That way his bottom whore was good to go for more tricks. That’s some cold shit. My thought whirled reading about the cocaine snorting and his nose hurting feelings of something scraping at the roof of his brain made me dizzy. I closed the book and stared at the ceiling. Dreaming. Aw man what do I do now. My head bounced like a bass line I felt slick. Breathing heavily but still relaxed. I went down for a cig to clear my thoughts. Sitting there I couldn’t stop looking at all the animals we had in this household. Cat and two dogs just lying freely whenever wherever.

The next morning I came back 6 sharp. A long 10 hours shift. My legs were aching and my head spiining. I wasn’t used to long as shifts. I was only used to lying around doing nothing chilling with friends. But it would come to me In time oso I ekpt coming there shouting like the others. Loud and confident keeping my back steady trying to pull in costumers in. At the end of each shift you would get paid a percentage of what you’ve sold. The first day I sold I couple of vegetables to this old lady who though I was cute and some couples wanting watermelon smoothies. It didn’t go so well. And I sure as hell didn’t want those pity purchases from old ladies. I made two fifty. It really wasn’t much. But at least I was paid the first day. Something I wasn’t expecting. I went to home sat on the couch with the other living there. We sat there chilling drinking beer and playing chess. And some girl that was visiting was playing skyrim.

Dreamers day

I remember when I was a small kid. I would look at the ocean and dream of being a bird. I would be on the moon. I was a gay kid, really. So much that my mother and sister thought I was actually gay. I remember the beach of Turkey. The warm ocean on my limbs under the moonlight. The salt burning in your eyes. Those were the days of happiness and good rest. Father would show us to surf the water on our stomachs whenever a wave came. Also the days of Levanto were nice. Father and I would hike the mountains at daybreak. We would struggle to find a parking spot and Father would cuss. Sister and I would get mojitos and look at the natives. The parties were everywhere. We would bathe in the clear water by the cliff. I remember many young adults would jump in. Everyone wearing speedos except one skinny langy kid. A couple kissing. The guy would get a boner and the girl would cover his little man with her belly. They kissed passionately. People would jump in from 5 meters and even more. Chances were one day they wouldn’t jump far enough into the water and they would hit the sharp rocks at the cliffs bottom. I picked small black clams from the rock and lurked it open. Levanto was a trip through forests cussing. We were in Italy. Driving a big bad car. I would lie across the extra three seats in the behind. I would push my bare feet against the cold glass of the window. I would see the damp print of my feet and the water drops on the other side of the window. I was glad I was inside the warmth of the car. My sisters friend was along. I liked her. She must have been sisters best friend. Not anymore.. I would lie in the bed reading. I was afraid of small gold fish. We would see the colosseum. I would ask “is it real”. Father would laugh for 10 years. I am now here in bed. On the other side of the world. Mother was different. We would be inside. I would care about her. She would be weaker. Depressed. I would be worried sick. I am still worried. But I am also smarter. She can care for herself. She stopped smoking now for the seventeenth time. She says one day she will make it. I hope it for her sake. I am not sure. The price of cigarettes went up. I would watch television. I would come out and talk to her she would listen and I would cry. This pretty much sums up our relationship. I still love her though. I was a dreamer. My English teacher told my sister I lived on the moon. That was fine with me. Not anymore. I want to be in this world now. I want to do good.

The days when we were friends we would go around your backyard make silly films. Scream like small girls. But we were small boys. Guess there is not that big of a difference. We would draw silly faces in class. We would play on the smartboard. We didn’t care about anything but fun. We would be older and try to learn music. Try to do good in school. People break apart and new people find each other. Right now I don’t find anyone. I am alone with the people I live with. The are polite and we drink together. But we are not friends. Not yet but we could be., I think things can happen. “Don’t think twice it’s alright”. You can get everything down the first time you try. You see poetry and stories are written in the haze in the bottom of your mind. You have to write it now not think too much. Know what you want to write and hurry up. Times against you. You have to run or it will be dull or you will be drowsy. Don’t let anything walk up behind your back. Keep your ears and eyes open for everything. This is not the time for storytelling. Open your eyes open your ears. You didn’t see the best minds of your generation starving hysterical naked.

Three small kittens

The day came after the weekend to go back to work at the fruit parlor., The guy seemed to be very contend with my abilities. I would make at least ten dollars for my self each shift. And I would have just enough for food for the day. Not that it was enough. I still had rent to cover. So I seeked my boss for help asking “how do you make a living out of this. Whats the catch.” He responded “the catch is catch 22 anyone who wants to get out of combat duty isn’t really crazy”. “would you have to be crazy to want to be in combat?” he nodded “and it works the other way around too”. I pondered it over “you would have to be rationel to want to come out of combat?” “exactly”. It didn’t make any sense to me. What did that have to do with anything. After the shift my chef handed my a fairly small red book with the title Catch-22. I had only made eight dollars this day. It felt lousy. At least I was able to take as much leftover I wanted. That would cover my hunger, but the money wouldn’t cover my rent. Soon I would run out of money and I had no idea as to what to do. I came home and fell down the stinking madras on the floor of my room. I opened the first page of the book he had handed to me. Whatever it was about I was kind of excited to dick in. Every two hours I would go down for a cig and occasionally a glass of water. Didn’t eat anything except avocados. They sustain you for a long time and are delicious with salt. Just be careful some of the avocados are bad inside and will give you diarrhea. It isn’t very comfortable to go to the bathroom every ten minutes during a shift with your boss around. Next I had collected 330 dollars earning eleven dollars for myself. Which is a personal record of mine. I knew I could do better. Catch 22 was a real witty book I didn’t know what I had to learn from it. Each day I would come back to work my boss wouldn’t mention the book. He would just keep yelling for ten 12 hours straight like a muezzin standing on the top of the tower calling to prayer. He was insane. During the day his temple would pulsate like an angry cat who had catched syphilis. Sometimes his lips would be blue and he would have to sit down. Whenever that occurred shortly after he would pull up a small orange container from his pocket and down some pills. He must have had a heart disease or something. I wouldn’t get involved though. He never brought it up himself. So I figured he must have had a good reason to keep low profile. It wasn’t my fight to fight. Four times a day I would go further away with some of the other youngsters trying to make it as a fruit parlor. I was doing the worst but who really cares. It was no competition. I was just trying to make a living.

[demosthenes46-blog]

The boy who owned the world NOVEMBER 26, 2017 · FRIENDS The boy who owned a world By Josh Maynard Intro April 2020 People are dying. 2/3s of the worlds population has succumbed to an unknown virus. All humans above age 19 are dead. Corpses lie still in their cribs. Elderly lie eternally asleep in their beds. It all started 3 days ago, the flash. Children are waking up from their coma. Milk is sour. No power. Mommy and daddy smell bad. This is the new beginning. Adults have desecrated the Earth. So, the virus only attacked fully developed brains. Chapter 1 0810 Hours “Everything is fucked man, so fucked!” Eric mumbled as he pulled his red flyers wagon down the street. He stopped at a street light and out of habit looked both ways. Warily he crossed the street. Gunshots can be heard in the distance. the familiar pops that would resemble fireworks brought only death. “Damn kids” he spat in the direction on south Freetown. Eric would be turning 15 this year. Like it mattered, he thought. No more birthday candles. They were too valuable. After a few brisk minutes he reached a partially looted liquor store. He silently laughed at the broken registers and lotto machines. Damn kids. Curiously he made his way down the aisle pulling cans off the shelves. First aid and medical supplies went into the wagon as well. Candy bars, ramen noodles, and even pet food all came off the shelf. He suddenly stopped. He stopped right in front of the huge beer cooler. Shrugging a “what the hell” he grabbed a few cases. Eric managed to haul over 100lbs of supplies back to his house. His dads truck still in the garage. His moms eco friendly hatchback was still in the driveway. After putting his wagon away he grabbed his .22 rifle and his fathers .38 special tucking it in his waist band. After grabbing some pretzels and 12 pack he made his way to the front porch. While sitting in the rocking chair he began to whistle one of his fathers favorite bands songs. Eric solemnly took out a pack of malboros and lit one. While exhaling a large cloud of smoke he screamed “FUCK THIS” taking a final swig of his beer, he threw the bottle into the street. Not shedding a single tear. 3 hours later Eric awoke to the sound of screaming. No, laughter? He lazily opened his eyes to see a few kids playing soccer in the middle of the street. A few boys and girls his age while toddlers watched from the curb. The twins were team captains. Obviously, Eric snorted. Grabbing another cigarette he made his way to the street. The automatic gates didn’t work so he used a manual gate next to his mother’s rose bushes. Earlier he had wrapped all of his bike chains around the gate to further secure it. If he at 10 years old knew how to pick a lock then he could count on other degenerates knew too. After undoing all the chains several kids noticed Eric. “Eric! Finally the master of disaster wakes up!” one of the twins piped up. It was Harry, the boy, all long flowing locks of fiery red hair. “What’s up fire crotch?!” Eric replied. Soon all the little ones crowded Eric squealing and hugging his legs. “We rescued a lot of kids today” Sara mentioned as he made her way through the small crowd. “While you were shut in your castle”. Sarah gave him a peck on his cheek. “We thought…..” her gaze fell low “We thought you were fish food man!” Harry exclaimed “But look at you! Smoking AND drinking. Wow. Hey wheres all the warm beer?” Eric put his thumb behind him “I put it in the pool”. At the mention of a pool the kids all stopped playing with the ball. “Well fuck this! Me first!” Harry yelled pushing past all the little ones “Take him hostage sis, hes all yours!” he screamed just as an army of children began to run behind him. Eric smiled, my little army, he thought. “So hot shot, what’s the plan?” he turned to see Sarah in white shorts and a yellow blouse. The wind was whipping her hair across her shouders. She and her twin brother were 16. Sarah and Eric swapped their V-cards together just that summer. “Well Darling” he said between puffs “I guess we take over the world” laughing he locked the gate and slid his arm around her waist. Together they made their way to the pool. “Don’t drink it all asshole!” Eric yelled as Harry grabbed his another beer. “Relax bro, ill go get you a whole store!” Harry replied. They both fell back in their lawn chairs laughing. “Is this the life or what?” Harry asked “Despite the fact I forgot we have no parents, its been alright” Harry whistled a somber tune. “Yeah, our dad was an ass so we put him in the county dump” Harry replied gleaming “ Fuck-em” he whispered as he took another swig. “So captain whats the plan? I mean, how do we live? Obviously we cant take care of all these little bastards” Harry mentioned while he waved his hand at the pool. The pool was filled with more then 50 screaming and laughing kids. They all had forgotten for the time being that they had awoken to dead parents days before. Eric smiled at Harry “I guess we can drop them off in the woods somewhere—OWWW” “Sarah punched Eric in the shoulder “Well? Do you have any ideas princess?” Eric said turning towards her. She was rubbing her temples while in deep thought. “We need them…” she finally said “We need an army” Harry began to laugh but quickly fell silently, no one else thought it was funny. “Your serious?” said Eric, she turned to him “ Its time babe. We’re taking over”. Eric lifted his beer and chugged the rest in one gulp, “Si vis pacem para bellum” he whispered. Chapter 2 A few months later Cars had now been parked to block the ends of the street. After Eric dispatched Harry to the local hardware store to get generators. The wall was being built. Tony was named head engineer. Tony was 13 and still in love with legos so to Eric it was a no brainer to charge him with building a wall. He now supervised 8-15 year olds as they cut and nailed new sections. Eric drove by in his Hummer. “Hey Tony the tiger, hows the progress?” he asked stepping out. Tony grimaced, “ Im not gunna lie Er, we are way behind. That last attack from the Baron’s set us back. We are now using fire retardant wood and aluminum roofing to cover the wood. At least the gate anyway. The vulneralbities are the alley’s and the sewers”. Eric was writing in his notebook. “ Anything else to report?” Tony looked sideways “Well, one of the new recruits is causing some trouble” At this Eric looked up “Trouble?” Tony sighed “She causing some dissention with the younger ones, he goes by Striker” Eric spat at the ground “Son of a bitch” he pulled out his radio “Base 1, this is golden eye over” his radio crackled “Golden eye we read you, what’s your 20? Over”. The kids had raided a police station armory and found radios with code books. “Find out who is in charge of our new guppies (recruits) and bring them all to the hall of justice, over.” Eric said “Roger wilco sir, over and out”. Eric kicked a rock “To the torture chamber we go”. He climbed behind the wheel of the truck and sped off grinding his cig mouth. “Attention on deck!” Lt Gaby screamed. “ At ease” Eric barked. The whole room sat at Eric’s command. “ Lt, give me the list of guppies” Gaby promptly handed over a list of this week’s workers. Striker was last on the list. “Guppie Striker?” Instantly a frail blonde girl stood. She was about his height with green eyes and a very extenuating bust. Shit, Eric thought, he assumed it was a male. “Seize her” 4 guards responded and cuffed her. “Bring her here” Eric commanded, the guards led her without protest to the front of the hall and sat her in the Truth Chair. “Guppies DISSMISSED!” Eric bellowed, Lt Gaby began to bark orders and led them back to work detail. As the last recruit left Eric told the guards to wait outside. “Id rather blow you then get raped” Striker spat in rebellion as he walked behind her. “Who do work for?” Eric simply asked ignoring her provoke, “What?” Eric slapped her hard “Argh, I don’t WORK for anyone you jackass!” Striker screamed. “Why all the bullshit on the wall then!? Your speech is a cancer” Eric retorted as he began to lose his cool. He stayed behind her “I was only talking shit!” She screamed, she smelled good Eric thought as he leaned into her ear “Liar liar pants on ….” He then proceeded to lift a can and pour precious gasoline all over her body “….Fire”. Pity, she smelled so nice. She was screaming and thrashing but chains held her down. He circled her and took out a cigarette, light it and inhaled. “Look ill do whatever you want ok? Ill do whatever you want, please!” she was crying hard now, it gave Eric a thrill to hear her beg. “Tell me, who…..do….you….work….for” He breathed out his smoke so thick she began to cough “Fine FUCK, FINE! Fuck! Ill tell you! But I cant go back there! Please! They will kill me!” She screamed as Eric lit another match. “Who will?” Eric whispered as he slowly circled her. “The fucking jackets!” this puzzled Eric. The Yellow Jacket football team, he thought. Shit. “Guards!” Eric sat down, hands in his lap patiently studying Strikers face. She looked like an animal caught in a trap. The gas worked every time. If she only knew it was a cup of gas poured in a gallon of water for the smell. He smiled as moments later the Hall’s door was filled with guards. “Put her in solitary” He nodded to Striker “Brig, bread and water 3 days. That’s it.” Just as he finished his command Sarah burst through the front double doors with her honor guard trialing her. Oh shit, thought Eric. Sarah walked right up to Striker and punched her in the throat. Striker, still tied in the chair, fell gasping for breath still attached to the Truth chair. “Why wasn’t I notified immediately? Shes a fucking spy?!” Eric looked like he was actually 15. He then looked her straight in the eye and told her the truth “I didn’t want to risk it over the radios” Sarah kicked Striker in the stomach “And that’s for soliciting yourself on my man bitch!”. Between gasps Striker managed a weak “Fuck you..” Sara scoffed and began to try and stomp her face but Eric quickly intervened. “Stop Sara!” She looked back at him incredulously “We need her!” He urgently whispered. “Shes from a new gang, that football team from Glenbard High? Yellow Jackets apparently. That school is a fortress! Fuck a wall. That place could be our capital! We are close to 800 strong and climbing everyday….we need to expand” Eric then lightly kicked the now unconscious girl on the ground. ���Shes our golden goose” It took Sara a few seconds to contemplate this and then suddenly jumped on Eric “ Oh Darling this is why I love you!” She blurted in between kisses. “Ahem” a cloaked figure appeared in the Hall’s doorway. “Come now children, daddy’s home!” a familiar Harry swept off his cloak in a kingly manner. “Scary Harry! My man, how goes it?” Harry lit a cigar and dragged a huge toke. “Well, the campaign is going well, we brought an additional 76 guppies in. But even better are our raids. I put the preliminaries on your desk Governor, ill tell you this, we hit em hard” Sarah released her grip on Eric “How hard?” She breathed slowly. Harry took his time “Uhhh…about 10,000 gallons of fuel” Eric’s cigarette fell from his mouth. Sarah ran to her brother and picked him up in a excited embrace. “You little devil you! How!? A transport?” she set him down “Of course my horse! We were raiding the airport when our scouts spotted a few Baron’s guarding a jet and a truck. Our snipers took out the gurads and when we searched the plane. Nothing but this white powerdy stuff. Looks like coke?” “Celebration?” Harry asked his lifetime best friend. “Its time to kill the fatted calf” Eric said with a smile. It was going to be a very good day after all. “Governor! Eric wake up!” Eric opened one eye, it was Lt. Gaby. “Yeah yeah im awake, whats the matter?” Gaby gave him a report “Is this true?” Gaby nodded “Ever since Sparrow (Stanley) put out that radio signal our radar is picking up thousands of kids and vehicles alike”. Shit, he thought, too soon. “Get me my gun and hail Cmdr Sarah and Cmdr Harry NOW!” Gaby quickly saluted and ran barking orders. Within minutes Sarah and Harry had Alpha Teams swarming the banisters. “I want snipers on every fucking roof damn it!” Eric yelled into his throat mike “And someone bring me some coffee!” Eric reached in his pocket and sniffed some sugar, he was floored. “Gaby, get processing teams down there now!” Eric knew first hand what could happen if close to 2,000 kids got riot worthy. Processing teams pushed through the huge make shift camp. Gaby got a p.a. “Males on the left side of the street and females on the right” Medical teams were then dispatched to triage the new kids. “We cant let them all in Eric, there’s not enough supplies” Harry said as he looked at the huge crowd. Reports were coming in that thousands were being added. “Then we build more walls. Send out more raid parties.” Harry looked away in anger “You have no idea what its like out there do you Er? How many good guys and girls ive lost trying to feed these outsiders” He spat as he waved his hand over new guppie crowd. “You and Sarah are living in this fantasy….you CANT save the world.” Eric knew Harry was right. They couldn’t keep on taking in every new guppie that they found. They were already at max capacity. They needed to expand. And he knew just the place to annex. Now was his chance. “Sarah, call the council together and Gaby?” “Yes, capt?” “Make sure these migrants have bread and water. Keep em happy” Gaby then replied a few seconds later “ Uh sir, theres a leader here who calls himself Josiah, he would like a word” Sarah looked at him with conern but Harry volunteered “Ill go baby sit the prophet” Harry said laughing as he climbed down the banister. “He’s a tough SOB that one!” Eric said as he watched Harry entreat this leader to succumb to his world. They both entered the gates minutes later arm over each others shoulder. He was a red head. Damn irish, Eric thought as he chuckled. “Well, you have your army Darling, whats next?” Eric pulled another cigarette from his almost empty pack. “We are gunna take that fucking school” Chapter 3 “8 days later” *Eric and Harry are on a hill ½ mile from Redwood High. Eric has a spotters scope & Harry is staring down a Barret .50. Both are dressed in camo. Its been two says since last relocation. Eric cant stop smoking. He worried about his young sniper team. Most of his team consisted of teenagers trained on video games of violence and gore. Bravo and Alpha teams consisting of 5 guppies contained a comms, medic, assault, and sniper team were stationed in the North and Charlie and Delta were moving in from the East & West. An entire storm trooper army was stationed just outside the Yellow Jackers radar about 2 clicks south, about 2k strong in the FOB* “There he is…” Eric, alert and hyperviligant, whispered. “The queen bee himself, range?” Harry asked “400 yards” Eric whispered. “Fuck man I cant make that shot!” Harry said setting down his rifle. “This is way different then COD bro, we got wind and drop to factor in” Eric whipped out a compass and wind navigator and ran the numbers. “Shoot 8 inches to the left and 5 inches above your target” Eric said to Harry. “Seriously?” Harry spat incredoulous. “Dead serious, simple calculus my friend, x is always moving” Whispered Eric. He watched through his spotters lens as the Queen Bee drank some hot liquid on the roof. “All units prepare for execute, on my mark, fire fire fire……” Erics words were muffled by thunderous crack of lightning. “WEAPONS FREE!” Eric yelled into his throat mike. Infantry units on dirt bikes, ATV’s, and trucks with .50 came barreling from all units and entire buses full of grunts began to appear on the horizon. The siege lasted 45 min. Multiple units began to engage the Yellow Jackets on the 1-4 floors of the school. Tear gas and smoke filled the courtyards. The ill prepared YJ did not stand a chance against riot gear and gas. Many young militants fell in the first few minutes. Medics were dispatched to patch up the wounded. Enemies were captured and rounded up in a make shift camp. After the intial stages of the invasion, the battle was over. A white flag was shown from the Gym of the school which served as HQ. The Gym was full to the brim with over 1,500 kids. “Cease fire!” Harry commanded over his mike. “Infantry, secure the perimeter, Flood the tunnels and seal the gates. No one in or out. Process all citizens of the YJ colony and get medical teams to triage the survivors.” Eric barked into his mike. “Sniper teams, your on overwatch duty, if you see a weapon in the hands of the enemy, terminate them” CRACK Harry slumped over. His face hit the cold ground with a sickening thud. Everything happened in slow motion. Eric’s initial assement assumed his wound was fatal. Crawling over, he deduced that the round had grazed his ear and rendered him unconscious. “FUCK EVAC ON MY POSITION NOW! I need artillery on that roof now! Mobile units, put suppressive fire on those banisters! SOMEBODY PUT A FUCKING BIRD IN THE SKY!”

[davidhesseauthor-blog]

The Goat-Man Or Some People Shouldn’t Be Allowed To Spawn Part III

Upon concluding the introductions, Max got down to business while Zippy continued to stare at the 1982 Alabama cheerleaders Calendar. “Cooter, how did you and Fim get involved with trying to locate the Goat Man?” “Well Mister Fly, it all started when Ida Mae Davis, Fim’s aunt, told me and Fim here about Reverend M. T. Head seeing this Goat Man who the Reverend called Beelzebub or the anti-Christ. We had to see for ourselves so we went out to the same woods where the reverend said he saw that thang and we started looking for that monster ourselves. “ “Yessir, Mr. Fly, we took along our deer rifles in case this goat got a little weird on us, you know?” Fim Fudge said, shaking his head. “We know about them things. We saw that Deliverance movie last week at the Rivoli Movie Theater in downtown Frog Eye. So we was real careful, you know?

Flymobile

By the way, that’s a mighty nice rifle you got there in the back window of that ugly green car. What kind is that? I ain't seen nuthin’ like that before?” It’s a 1958 Oldsmobile 98 Jetaway with Hydra-Matic drive and a 394 cubic inch engine. It’s got electric windows.” “No kidding? But I was talking about that rifle.” “Oh, it’s a Pre-64 Model 1970 Winchester Rifle.” “Is it accurate?” “Well, I can shoot a pimple off a Goat Man’s butt at a hundred yards. Would you call that accurate?” “Yessir, yessir I would.” “Let’s get back to the Goat Man, should we?” “Okay,” Cooter continued, “we went through the woods to the bottom of Cheaha Mountain and what we saw was no Anti-Christ, I don’t think. I never come across one that I know’d of. This thang was part human, maybe part sheep, and maybe part goat, but all weird. We was rackin’ our brains trying to figure out what type of animal it could be, an injured goat, an albino cow, a white rabbit like the kind that attacked President Jimmy Carter in his rowboat while he was fishing over in Plains Georgia years ago, or that Sasquatch fella. Then Ol’ Fim here, he took out a pair of binoculars and realized that the creature wasn’t any of those things at all, but a man looking a lot like ol’ Otis Melon wearing what appeared to be a weird goat suit.” “Where do you get a goat suit?” “I’m not sure. I don’t got one, but Otis’s mamma is a real good sewer. She’s a sock seamer at the sock factory over in Ankle Scratch. She can make ‘bout anything. She’s a looker too. Everyone ‘round here know’d she and Gator Melon were foolin’ around and it weren’t long ‘fore she was walking ‘round with a bat in the cave. ‘Bout nine months later, ol’ Otis pops out. He was a funny-lookin' thing from the start. Looked like he was hit purty hard with an ugly stick. Know what I mean? People ‘round here wonder how someone purty as Bernice could gestate sumpthin’ that looks like ol’ Otis. “Anyway, I watched this thang for about 20 minutes,” Fim continued, “and he stayed on his hands and knees. Then he realized he was being watched and he began to watch us back. It was really creepy, man. This was when we decided to leave because it was getting hotter than a goat’s butt in a pepper patch.” “Where did you see this creepy thing?” Zippy asked while still staring at the cheerleaders and lighting up a hand-rolled cigarette and blowing smoke through his flared nostrils. The smoke seemed to mesmerize Cooter Johnson like the 1982 Alabama Cheerleader calendar apparently had mesmerized Zip. “We saw him over by Cletus Melon’s place.” Fim continued. Cletus is Otis’s cousin. He was crawling up the hill to join a herd of goats. After a while, we started thinking it looked a lot like Otis Melon for sure. He’s had two horns stickin’ outta his head all his life. As I said, Otis looks like he fell outta an ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down. Something is definitely off with that boy.” “Where can we find this Otis Melon fella?” “Go talk to Cletus. He can tell you where Otis is.” Cletus Melon’s place was located about five miles north of Devil’s Holler situated in the foothills of the Cheaha Mountain, the highest point in Alabama. Zippy turned off state highway 12 and onto a dirt road that wound it’s way up Cheaha Mountain. “Slow down Zip. You’re getting the Flymobile all dusty.” “I’m just anxious to see this Otis guy with the horns,” Zippy replied. As they crested the hill they saw a ramshackle cabin in a hollow between two mountain peaks and an old man in bib coveralls sitting on the porch in a rocking chair smoking a corncob pipe with an old coon dog lying at his feet next to an uncorked clay moonshine jug. “Max, the smell of that tobacco that old man is smoking is making me dizzy,” Zip commented as they approached the porch. The old coon dog lifted it’s head and looked at the two strangers and then went back to sleep. “Good morning, are you Cletus Melon?” Max asked.

Cletus Melon “That’s me. You boys are a long way off the main road. This just so happens to be private property. You better state your business and git the hell outta here ‘fore I sick ol’ Francis on ya?”

Francis The Coon Dog At the sound of his name, the coon dog lifted his head and stared at Max and Zippy Doo with bleary eyes. It appeared that Francis had been sharing the contents of that jug sitting next to him with Cletus. He didn’t look like he could stand, let alone chase them. “We are here because some folks back in Devil’s Holler have spotted what they think is the Goat Man or some kind of monster up on the side of that mountain in your back pasture,” Max replied, pointing at the Cheaha Mountains behind the cabin. “Cooter Johnson and Fim Fudge saw it and think it bears a close resemblance to your cousin Otis. “What’s this monster s’pose to look like?” “Well, he’s big, with a massive chest and his body is deformed,” Zippy began, “and they say he has a putrid essence about him and deathly pale skin with greasy and snarled hair with a pair of ram horns sticking out.” “Is that so? Sounds like my cousin Otis, second cousin, actually. But Otis ain’t no monster.” But he ain’t right, ya know.  Otis’s mama, Bernice, was having one helluva a time trying to squeeze that boy outta that birth canal and when she was finally ready to give birth, there weren’t no people doctor around so Ol Woody Johnson, the veterinarian, who was in the barn with Gator at the time tending a sick cow, came over and assisted Mama Melon in her delivery. Unfortunately, he dropped little Otis on his head and two little bumps started to grow and I’ll be darned if those two things didn’t continue to get bigger and bigger. So them things ain't no horns. They’s just bumps, big bumps now. As Otis grew his head got bigger and folks around here started calling him Melon Head until the little bumps got to be big bumps. Now, most folks just call him crazy. You see, Otis, he’s a little off you know? Sometimes he wants to look like a, you know, a goat, so he climbs into this goat suit his mama made him and goes up in the mountains and lives with the goats. Sometimes that fool Cephus Stanley goes with him. He’s an Auburn boy. Auburn folks been know’d to do some strange things anyway. I don’t know what Otis does up there and I don’t want to know either. As I said, Otis is a bit peculiar. But one thing I do know and that is Otis wouldn’t kill no cow, goat, chicken, or hog, for that matter. He’s a vegetabletarian, you know, one of them kind that don’t eat no meat. “Where can we find Otis?” Zippy asked. “He’s out behind the barn. S’posed ta be shovelin’ cow biscuits. Usually can’t git ‘im to do a lick o’ work. Boy’s about as handy as a back pocket on a shirt. But he means well.” “Mind if we have a talk with Otis?” “Go ahead. Just watch where you step he ain’t too good at shovelin’,” Cletus replied, picking up the jug and pouring a little of its contents in the dish next to Francis before taking a long pull on it himself. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Melon.   After negotiating their way around piles of cow biscuits that Otis had missed with the shovel, they arrived at a small paddock behind the barn and it was there that they got their first glance at Otis Melon.

Coming up next - the exciting conclusion. 

[topsolarpanels]

Know Your Enemy: Celebrating 50 Years of the Forever War

Robert Sammelin

No one drank more than the scientist. Every night, after whatever patriotic black-tie gala marriage played props at, he could be found at the hotel bar, trying to extract existential meaning from a banana colada. It was an odd drinking of option for such a serious human, but only once did he respond to our interrogations about it.

It pleases the nerve fibers, he said, all baritone to his voice, before disappearing into the chilled yellow muck again. We were in New Tulsa, debriefing after a grueling dinner with a bunch of white-haired solar energy exec. Wed been on the road for months, and morale used to go the way of the glacier. I ordered a round for the table, and we toasted to the hustle. Heroes of the nation, peddling war bonds by day, drinking like froufrous by night. Our drill instructor would not have been proud.

Maybe it wasnt New Tulsa. Maybe itd been in Charlotte after the fund-raiser with the nanofinance douchebags. Anyhow.

There were 11 of us on the bond drive, 12 if you included the JngerBot. The Forever War had just entered its sixth decade, and our politicians didnt pretend they were going to end it anymore, even during elections. They couldnt. Wed tried everything: nation-building, nation-destroying, sending terrorists and their families to the Mars penal colony, sending the rebel Young Siberians to actual Siberia. Nothing had worked. We were at war because we always had been. We were at war because we always would be. We were at war because we were at war.

Matt Gallagher

About

Matt Gallagher is the author of the novel Youngblood and the Iraq memoir Kaboom: Embracing the Suck in a Savage Little War.

The government decided to celebrate the Forever Wars golden anniversary with loud, shiny bombast. We were part of that bombast. AMERICAS HEROES, TOGETHER AT LAST, ran the tagline. We were like a roving assortment act, but without name recognition or singing or sex appeal. Without anything, truly. Just pasts wiped clean with the antiseptic of narrative. So we stood there and smiled and waved while other people told our tales to the crowds. The crowd cheered. We waved again.

After the coladas, I settled the tab and excused myself. The younger veterinarians night was just beginning, but mine was nearing its end. In the queue for the teleporter to the rooms, a human about my age waited behind me. He wore a rumpled dress shirt and an overlong tie-in and a goatee on the brink of coherence.

He was looking everywhere but my hoverchair. People with legs always do that. It reminds me of the route some men used to try very hard not to look at my cleavage when I was younger. The endeavor simply underlines the fixation.

Thank you, he said. For what you did.

Thank you for your supporting, I told, a answer as hollow as it was practiced. He mustve been at the event earlier.

Cancan I tell you something?

Sure, I told. Women in military uniforms have this impact on men in dress shirts, for some reason. If youd like to.

I wanted to be a recon marine when I was a kid. He said it like it was a church confession, something hidden away in the lost rifts of his soul for decades. Did the recon workout at the gym for years, he continued. Stupid, I know.

I nodded, both because it was stupid and because I knew.

Youre a bona fide hero. The men segue was as graceful as a startled dog, but it was late. That scientist, though. Hes killing people. And not only the enemy.

I thought about “the mens” words. They were true enough. So what would you do? I asked. If you were him.

Me? The man stroked his goatee. I wouldnt even know.

Pragmatically, I told. Youre the scientist. You live in this country. The wars happening. You can perhaps aim it or not. Either style, people succumb. What do you do?

II object to the question. And to the idea. Im not him. The human voice had a quiver to it now. Not an angry quiver, either. A frightened one. I was just sayingI dont think its right. Thats all.

OK, I said. Night. It was my turning at the teleporter. I get in and went to my room. I didnt begrudge the man his opting out. We all had in some manner. Even us.

Especially us.

The Federals had discovered me at my sisters, on the porch, scrolling through a holopad article about the rabid lemur thatd killed Justin Bieber Jr. Furious George Howls With Delight! read the headline. Its always spooky when sons succumb the same way their fathers did. The past comprehend us all, eventually. Even Biebers.

I was on my seventh year of an indefinite visit, still sleeping in a bare guest room. A potted flower or framed scene would have felt like marks of permanence, somehow. Id been living in increments since high school and wasnt about to stop simply because I couldnt figure out what to do with the rest of my life.

Theywell, welived at the top of a windy mound in a suburbium of a suburbium, wedged between a stand of wild honeysuckle and a pond shaped like a swollen snout. It was green and quiet. The kind of place where big flags hung from porches with humility. I taught painting at the community center and took my nieces to soccer practice and spend my Saturday nights at the one townie bar that served ros.

The life didnt induce me happy or anything, but it could have. Maybe should have.

There were three of them. They all wore jeans and plaid shirts of differing blandness. Id have expected suits and black sunglasses, but the decay effects of after-empire were reaching and vast.

Chief Warrant Officer Valerie Speer? one said. Well, asked. I didnt look my part, either. Female veterinarians tend to cut a certain mold. A liter-sized gremlin in a gardening hat wasnt it.

They told me about the bond drive. About how it would inspire patriotism again in the hearts and minds of the person or persons. About how it would get everyday citizens invested in the wars again.( Like they ever were. I knew the history .) About how the governmental forces needed the money, how 50 years of blowing up things in strange, faraway places had taken its toll on the budget, especially since the geothermal insurgency in Blue Russia began eating away at Uncle sam foreign trade.

About how the bond drive needed a woman on it, because they had an old guy, a blexican, a mexipino, and a robot, and showing that heroes were as diverse as the country mattered.

I laughed. A female. I danced my metal fingers through the air. In the right sun my prosthetics could look like flesh. We werent in it. Thats why you need me.

That made the two men in jeans and plaid look down at the ground, but the woman Fed just stared at me.

Youre Valerie Speer, she said. The tone in her voice sounded so earnest it snapped. Do you know what you mean to my generation of status of women? I joined the agency because of you.

She was lying about that, I was almost sure. But shed appealed to my pride. I danced my fingers through the air again and took in all the green, all the quiet. Seven years here. Seven years that had induced me soft. Did people my age go on escapades anymore?

I requested information about financial compensation.

Heres the thing about being labeled a war hero: You either love it or hate it. Theres little space for mixed impressions. Take the scientist. Invented a drone mosquito that gives people the runs, sold it to the military, and stopped the Arabican conflict practically overnight. You cant fire a rifle when youre crapping out your brains. But some of the mosquitoes werent as specific as billed. During strafes, they bit foes and civilians alike. Which wouldnt have mattered much had we been fighting in the developed world. We werent, though. Outbreaks of dysentery and super-cholera followed, and the last UN estimate I watched numbered deaths in the tens of thousands.

The bond drive needed a woman on it. They already had an old guy, a blexican, a mexipino, and a robot.

The scientist had ended a war all with his mind. Yet the only thing he wanted in the world was to return to his lab, to his anonymity, and forget any of it ever happened.

The JngerBot seemed to resent the attention for other reasons. It didnt know what to induce of people, and truth be told, people didnt know what to attain of it. They could handle robots, had been dealing with them all their lives. Even the rough-and-tumble behaviour of a regular InfantryBot could be explained away. But an elite InfantryBot 5000 upgraded with the transcendental heroism and philosophical musings of decorated German World War I soldier Ernst Jnger? That caused some issues.

The anarch wages his own wars, the JngerBot said at a fund-raiser to a journalist whod would like to know whether it missed battle. Even when marching in rank and file.

Before a boxing prizefight, the JngerBot felt it necessary to remind the crowd what was what. Furrow opposing is the bloodiest, wildest, most brutal of all, it said to 70,000 drunk revelers in Vegas. Of all the wars exciting moments , none is so powerful as the session of two cyclone troop leaders between narrow trench walls. Theres no compassion there , no going back. The blood speaks from a shrill exclaim of recognition that tears itself from ones breast like a nightmare.

And then there were the children.

It told a 10 -year old with a JngerBot poster on his wall that killing an adversary would be a finer tribute. And when a bank presidents “girls ” pointed to us and asked if we were heroes, the JngerBot objected as only it could TAGEND

Heroes deeds and heroes graves, it said. Old and new you here may assure. How the Empire was created. How the Empire was preserved. It paused. We sought the death of heroes. There is no lovelier demise in the world.

The little girls face paled to glass as her father resulted her away. We all laughed about it , no one harder or longer than Dizzy. Dizzy was a walking, talking debate for breeding the remaining cis-males out of the gene pool, if only he hadnt been so pretty. Drone pilots. They think theyre so starfish because they can laser insurrectionists dead from space. And Dizzy was an superstar. He adored every minute of the bond drive, “members attention”, the parties, the hoverfloat rides, the certain type of female patriot who wanted to see the view from his hotel balcony. Beats going back to Pueblo and coaching CrossFit, hed tell, before unleashing that smile of full, fluoride shine. God, he could charm the sorcery underwear off a Mormon.

Would try, at least.

Hed earned the Silver Star in the Iraq war. Well, the Iraq war before the last one. Maybe it was three Iraq wars ago.

Dizzy and the younger vets on the bond drive are always privateersmercenaries if youre the protest, virtual-petition kind. WarriorCorps and Foreign Legion Inc. and Armed Humanitarianism Limited and the like. I was hybrid: part contractor but also part national military, before that ran extinct during the Whig Revolt of 36. Merely Emo Carlos was old enough to have been GI from beginning to end. Hed earned the Silver Star in the Iraq war. Well, the Iraq war before the last one. Perhaps it was three Iraq wars ago. Anyhow. We asked Emo Carlos about it over sushi, after a parade in Cleveland.

Jumped on a grenade at a checkpoint, he told, defining down his chopsticks with a shrug. Didnt go off.

We hollered and banged the table just because we could. Itd been a couple decades since anything but a bot had been close enough to a grenade to do anything like that. Even the JngerBot conveyed its admiration.

Defective? I asked.

Emo Carlos nodded. One in a million, they said.

What happened then? Dizzy asked.

The creases in Emo Carlos forehead folded into one another like papier-mch. He usually never talked about anything but drumming for his old-man punk band. Theyd served together back in the day and were known across the greater Rochester area as the Infidels. Geriatric humor.

Stood up, he said. Dusted off. Looked down. Realise Id pissed myself.

We hollered and banged the table all over again.

An elderly couple came over to us subsequently. Theyd overheard our conversation and wanted to say thank you. They said they had two grandsons in privateer training.

I know our thanks is a small thing, the spouse said. He and his wife looked so cute in their nice old-people clothes, khakis and sweaters and thick-rimmed glasses. They looked like other peoples grandparents always look. But sometimes its all those of us here can offer.

The wife nodded. Were all involved, she told. We believe that. As taxpayers, as citizens, thats how it is. Were with you.

We thanked them for thanking us and they left the restaurant.

What did she mean, Were all involved? Dizzy asked. No theyre not.

There were echoes of agreement and deliberation over what the old woman had meant, and not just about the word involved . Also about the word we .

Yo, Emo Carlos told. The table hushed. Theyre from my hour. When wars had objectives. When citizens tried to keep up. America used to be young. Thats what she meant.

Then say that, Dizzy told. Taxes? Who the fucking cares.

Emo Carlos shook his head again. He was trying to clear himself of frustrations, either with himself or with us. Then he pointed at me. Sent her to the damn moon. Supposed to save us all, putting the wars up there. Preserve the land and resources, remove civilian demises. Be tidy and simple. That was the plan.

And no one ever went back, Dizzy told. The game changed.

Well. Emo Carlos giggled. Military lesson numero uno, son, he said. No plan survives first contact.

The rest of us chuckled along with the old wisdom. Everyone but the scientist, who sat off by himself in the corner. He looked up at us with something between sadness and ferocity. It was hard to decide which.

Tidy and simple, he said. I like that.

When my nieces turn 12 and gain access to FreedomNet, they will find these three paragraphs about their aunt, etched into the digital histories forever and ever TAGEND Valerie Jade Speer( born May 2, 2011) was a chief warrant officer( air) and assault pilot in the United States Army and later the privateer organization Star Spangled Security. She was awarded the Star of Valor in 2042 for her actions during the Battle on the Moon, of which she was the only survivor . Deployed to the moon as part of the NATO coalition during the course of its South Seas dispute, Speer flew a Flying Yeager fusion helocraft during the battle, destroying five Chinese Federation space-helos and two Young Siberian cosmo-planes. Struck by an enemy dwarf ballistic, Speer crash-landed into the Titius Crater. She was thus sheltered from the amaze thermonuclear strike carried out by the Young Siberians that killed all other fighters and blew the hole in the moon now known as Putins Smile . Initially presumed dead, Speer was found during NATO recovery operations two days after the end of the combat. She lost three extremities, suffered burns over much of her body, and survived over 90 surgeries. President Natasha Obama told Speers life and narrative are a testament to the American spirit at her Star of Valor ceremony at the White House .

Words can be funny beasts. Her actions suggest some sort of agency, even control. Destroy is such a clean term for such messiness. Struck by defied my memory of it. Same with crash-landed.

Less so with lost. And suffered.

Testament. As if enduring were a selection. I did what anyone would have. There are no atheists in moon craters. And there are no fatalists in survivor wards of one.

I was thinking about that ward as I zipped up my suitcase in my sisters guest room for the bond drive. Thinking about the long stills of quiet during the nights. Guessing about being “ve called the” Burn by nurses who guessed I couldnt hear them. Supposing about the full-thickness graft done without anesthesia.

You sure about this, Val? My sister stood in the doorway. Her posture betrayed opposition. She was four years older and had always asked me questions that she already had answers for. You have options.

Shed said the same years prior, before Id left for the moon.

I am, I told both times, even though I wasnt both days. Id always detected power and resolve in ambiguity, though. Most people werent like that. My sister, for one.

Youve done more than your share, she continued, moving to the bed and putting her arm around my shoulder. So much more. I leaned my head into her and tried to hold in some of the familial warmth. Id miss it, I knew. Only sisters and nieces hug people like me. I dont think its right.

I smiled at that.

Its not, I told. But. If not me, then who?

Even running can be its own form of opting out. I didnt know that the first time. But I did the second. The last night in the guest room, as I tossed and turned in bed, I thought about that. Then I thought about the survivor ward again. And the long stills of quiet during the nights. And being “ve called the” Burn. And the graft.

Somewhere between Omaha and Tesla City, I began to realize just how different the younger vets were. It wasnt simply that they were privateers, either, or that they called adversary combatants pixels as an insult. Dizzy and his crew, they crowed about their service. Owned their superiority, then basked in it.

Do soldiers think theyre better than citizens? Of course. It has nothing to do with what did or didnt happen in their service, either. It has to do with the very notion of joining up. Americas been at war since before most of us were born. We joined because we wanted to go. Wed been told we were special from day one of boot camp, doing something the rest of our nation couldnt. Or worse, wouldnt. Too fat. Too selfish. Too lazy. Which made the realization after we got out that citizens think were beneath them all the more shocking. If theyre fat, selfish, and lazy, then whats worse than that?

We werent supposed to say any of that, though. My generation didnt, at least. We were taught that part of our service was biding quiet about it. To rise above, because thats what Jesus and George Washington and Beyonc wouldve wanted.

Thats what I did. Or tried to, at the least. Let the citizenry think what it wants, ran the logic. All part of being a republic.

Maybe we had it incorrect, though.

I wondered about that the night the protester confronted us. We were in Washington for a gala. Ordinarily “were in” ushered in through side or back door for events, but the organizers of this one had us walking in on a red carpet, through a galaxy of flashing lightings and holographic cameras.

Finally, Dizzy told, pausing to adjust his bow affiliation and lick his front teeth. The treatment we deserve.

Why the protester chose the JngerBot to cream-pie, Ill never know. By the time the uproar had reached my ears and Id floated around in my chair, the JngerBot had the young man by the throat. Request order to remove home-front adversary, it said, which was funny, and then not.

We got the young man free of the JngerBots prongs. He was reed-thin and had thick brown curls with eyes as dark and mad as the moon. I didnt know what to think about him or his pie. People didnt protest war in person anymore. It wasnt sane behavior.

Youre not heroes, he told. His terms were shaky. Its never easy coming face to face with people youve demonized. Or cockpit to cockpit. Youre tools of empire. Fuck you. Fuck all of you.

The cameras along the walkway started popping off like mortars. We all only stood there, waiting out his denunciation, because we were there to be seen and applauded , nothing else. His anger dazed me, and the others too. Not Dizzy, though.

Get bent, joker, Dizzy told, intersecting his arms for the cameras. War is bad? No shit. But it wont go forth just cause we want it to. Last month, two brigades from the same base get deployed. One goes to Kurd Mountain, saves those households from the horde. The other goes to Blue Russia, blows up some insurrectionists. Ones a humanitarian mission. The others combat. Both involve destruction.

Id never heard Dizzy speak with eloquence and passion before. He was good, and he knew it. He pressed on.

This JngerBot is a goddamn national gem. I dont know what brought you here tonight, and I dont dedicate a single fucking. We went so you dont “re going to have to”. Suck my hero balls.

The arrogance. The entitlement. The narrowness of thought. I loved it all, and I wasnt the only one. The red carpet explosion with applause. Dizzy even took a bow. But the acclaim wasnt universal.

After the protester had been escorted away and wed run inside for the gala, the scientist saw Dizzy. Dont do that again, he said. He loomed over the younger human like an angry parent. That guy is not your adversary. Neither is anyone else youve met on this stupid tour.

He aint a friend. Dizzy was trying to sound unbothered, and he leaned back in his chair and set his feet on the table. So what is he?

Only morons speak in absolutes, the scientist said.

Dizzy changed tactics. You know what he likely thinks about you? he asked. What all these people say when they think we cant hear? I had a woman tell me she didnt think we were whole human beings. Fuck her, and fuck that protester. Fuck all of them.

I wondered what the answers were to Dizzys questionwhat did people say about us? When they thought about us at all. Beyond the pomp and rite of the bond drive, we werent anything, I supposed. Just ciphers with tales people believed in, or didnt believe in, even before they heard them.

So. What. The scientists voice turned to iron as he responded to Dizzy. Thats the job. We have consequences.

Dizzy opened his mouth, but the scientist cut him off. You did . You did when you didnt “re going to have to”. Thats enough. It has to be. Then he stormed off, presumably for the hotel bar.

The scientist opted out that night. The rest of us did too, by doing the job. We stood there and smiled and waved while other people told our stories to the crowds. The crowd cheered. We waved again.

We walked back to the hotel as a group after the jamboree. We stopped in a park with green lawns and a marble fountain and joked about the protester, giggled about the scientist. The scientist had been right, but so what? What did being right have to do with anything? Dizzy had regained whatever force-out it was that sustained him and began chatting up a pair of young women who considered themselves patriots. I watched it all and thought about the ward and then my sisters home. The JngerBot came up beside me.

You managed that pie well, I told it. It didnt say anything, so I continued. Waiting for an order, I mean.

Here is our kingdom, the best use of monarchies, the best republic, the JngerBot told. Here is our garden, our happiness.

What a random thing to tell, I thought. Even for a robot. But subsequently, after considering it more, I decided otherwise.

The Fiction Issue

Tales From an Uncertain Future

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